


lighthouse in the darkness

by peterparks



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I hate myself, This is trash, he's also kinda emo bc he's in love w a dead princess, kinda weird dmitry but u do u boo, loses his tru luv before he even got to speak to her properly, poor babe, unedited, written @ like midnight dnt judge me pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparks/pseuds/peterparks
Summary: dmitry sudayev believed in three things: egality, liberty and anastasia romanov.





	lighthouse in the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> this hasn't been proofread rip. also btw movie appearances but musical canon. that is all.

Dmitry Sudayev believed in three things: egality, liberty and Anastasia Romanov. The first two had been things he’d only started to believe in in recent years. The third one, however, he’d always has faith in. A girl with long, darkish red hair, trailing down her back and forming slight ringlets. She was so small, so dainty. Even with her high above him, seated in that carriage as he looked on from the streets below, he knew that at just ten years old he could’ve hugged that little girl and she’d disappear beneath him, hidden beneath his chin and tucked under his too-long sleeves. In a single moment, he felt like the rest of the world was black and white, but she was screaming colour. A lighthouse in the darkness. 

 

He felt like he’d somehow formed a connection with the young Grand Duchess. Not a single word was exchanged, and yet, Dmitry never felt quite the same way as he grew older. There was usually something missing, something he couldn’t quite pick. Other girls were lovely, for sure. Many of them had been beautiful. They talked of finer things, music, art, and clothes. They all had culture and there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of them, and yet, in those moments with Anastasia his heart had lurched more than when he’d had his first kiss at age fourteen with a girl whose name he has since forgotten. 

 

It was like she had become his only constant. Even when he’d found himself in some rough company, when he’d sell stolen trinkets to afford his daily loaf of bread, in the back of his mind was the eight year old girl, whom of which he’d since known to have become even more beautiful then she’d been. He could almost see her at the back of his mind, dancing gracefully across a ballroom. Perhaps her siblings were there, perhaps they weren’t. Her ringlets always bouncing. Once or twice he dared see himself in his mind’s eye, approaching her. He’d bow once again, and she’d smile… 

 

...and then she died.

 

The light went out. He lost his way in the fog. The word was so simple but so  _ devastating _ . Dead. Gone forever.  _ Gone for good _ .

 

“ _ Although the Tsar did not survive, one daughter may be still alive – Anastasia. The Princess Anastasia.”  _ He wasn’t usually one for the gossip in St. Petersburg – now rebranded  _ Leningrad –  _ but  _ this _ , this was different. This felt important. This felt  _ real _ .

 

And then there was Anya. He hadn’t properly looked at her at first. She had just looked like the average city rat, her face covered completely in soot. But then he  _ looked _ , and he  _ saw _ . Her eyes, her smile. Her hair’s dance as she walked. His heart felt heavy, like something was weighing it down. He was both elated and terrified at the same time. It felt like a cruel trick the universe was playing –  _ Let the kid think she’s dead, and bring her back when he least expects it!  _ – and then, and then… and then have her be taken away. Give her a family, give her a fairytale ending. Duchess and common man. Con man and princess. Dmitry and Anya. 

 

She’d hate him forever. Let her hate him. Let her never know the three little words. Let her never feel the burden of knowing that this poor lowly boy was broken beyond repair.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you.  _

 

That’s the problem with lighthouses. They daze you and before you know it, you’re in rocky waters. Before you know it, you’re on a path to destruction. Before you know it, you’re in love.


End file.
